commission. You see you have no idea why . . . why I—if it’s really causing you any trouble”
“I will go,” said Prokop in a hoarse voice.
The girl turned her clear serious eyes on him. “Don’t think anything bad of me. I am only afraid that Mr. . . . that your friend may do something which would drive a certain person to death. I have so much confidence in you. . . . You will save him, won’t you?”
“I shall be ever so glad to,” said Prokop softly in an uncertain voice which was not his own; to such an extent was he overcome with excitement. “I . . . what you wish. . . .” He turned his eyes away; he was afraid that he would blurt something out, that perhaps she would hear the loud beating of his heart. He was ashamed of his uncouthness.
And the girl also was infected by his confusion; she blushed terribly and did not know what to do with her eyes. “Thank you, thank you,” she tried to say in a voice which was also somehow uncertain, and she gripped the sealed packet which she held in her hand. There was a silence, a silence which induced in Prokop a sweet and painful dizziness. He felt feverishly that the girl was watching his face askance; and when he suddenly turned his eyes on her he saw that she was looking down on the ground, waiting till she was able to endure his look. Prokop felt that there was something which he ought to say to save the situation; instead he only moved his lips uneasily and trembled with his whole body.
Finally the girl touched his hand and whispered, “That parce” Then Prokop forgot why he
